A Razor Upon Mine Head
by rhombus
Summary: Kyle Lewis, Lab Tech. February 2009. Shades of Kyle/Oliver. Pre-show, post-college.


**A Razor Upon Mine Head**

Kyle leaned his arms on the desk and watched the computer screen with glazed eyes, awaiting results that were at least an hour away.

A lock of longish hair fell across his eyes; he blew the obstruction out of his view with a quick puff of air. He knew his hair was getting a little unruly, but with his coursework and his job at the lab, studying and more studying, with a little bit of studying thrown on top, he just hadn't found the time to get it cut. Not that it looked bad. He wasn't Mullet McGee or anything. He just looked like he should be playing bass in an emo-band instead of running lab results for a teaching hospital.

If he was gonna get superficial about it, he liked the way it softened him up a little bit. If he looked relaxed, it helped him _feel_ relaxed.

He bent further down, propping his weight on his elbows, and planted his chin on his palm. He needed to rest his eyes for a minute, as well as his brain. The job wasn't exactly thrill-a-minute heroics, and sometimes the tedium made him twitchy. That, or the constant flickering of the fluorescent lights.

It helped to close his eyes and just see... nothing for a little while.

For those blank, empty moments he didn't have to worry about his life or remember where he thought he'd be by now—so many years ago when making plans seemed like a good idea. He didn't do that sort of thing anymore. Sure, there was finishing med school, becoming a doctor, paying off his student loans. Those were all plans, all _achievable_ plans, by any definition. It was the other stuff, the stuff that was out of his control. People-stuff. He could do without that, and do quite nicely.

As if on cue, the door banged open and in galloped Janey, a chirpy squirrel-like smile on her face. He straightened himself as she ran up to him and tugged on the sleeve of his lab coat, her eyes shining.

"OhmygodKyle! Oh. My. _God_."

Kyle couldn't contain his surprised grin, but he stopped himself from rolling his eyes. "Hi Janey."

She bobbed up and down next to him, her candy striper's vest on a one-second delay, bouncing against her chin on each descent. Since the moment Janey found out he was gay, she had obviously set herself a mission to make him her GBFF. Because the girl would just not leave him alone. She flitted in and out of the lab everyday, sharing gossip about people he didn't know, divulging intimate details of her overly-dramatic personal life, and being a general nuisance to productivity. Not that he minded all that much. The attention was kinda nice, and it certainly took a hammer to the tedium.

"Kyle. Kyle. Kyle! Great news!"

"You won the lottery?"

She poked him hard in the arm. "_You_ did!"

"Uh huh." His brows pulled together in confusion.

"The _man_ lottery!"

"What are you talking about?"

The squirrel-squeak dripped with annoyance. "If you'd let me finish! So, I was upstairs with Claire..."

Kyle drifted off for a moment. He wondered what the cafeteria would be serving for lunch. Probably mystery meatballs again. Maybe he'd just stick with fruit.

"...He's _totally_ gorgeous and you guys would be so cute together!"

He brought his attention back to the pink-and-white-striped ball of energy twittering in front of him. Something about a gorgeous guy? He couldn't blame his ears for perking up at that. His current cold streak had gone on long enough. He hadn't hooked up with anyone in at least two weeks.

"Who is this now?"

"Kyle!" She swatted his arm, a little too sharply. "Pay attention! The new security guard. He just started this morning, so he doesn't know anyone." She looked up at him with teasing eyes. "I bet he'd appreciate it if you showed him around. You know, gave him, um, a _lay_ of the land." Her tongue poked out of her mouth and pressed against her front teeth mischievously. "I bet no one bothered to show him the on-call room."

"Janey." Kyle patted her sweetly on the shoulder. She was being extra charming today, and it was doing wonders for his mood. "It would help things along if this guy were, y'know, gay."

"He totally is!"

Kyle narrowed his eyes. "You asked him?"

"Um, no, not really. But he pinged! Big time! And I can _always_ tell!"

"Uh huh. So that's why you asked me out when you first started here?" He loved having a reason to smirk. "Because you could tell I was gay?"

"You're the exception that proves the rule. You've got..." She swirled her hand in front of his chest. "...gaydar jamming systems or something."

"What, I'm not gay enough? Is that what you're saying?"

Janey shrugged, sucking her lower lip into her mouth. "Kinda."

He rolled his eyes and leaned forward, resting his palms on the desk in front of him. "Just... stop while you're ahead, Janey."

"Seriously, though. This guy is _perfect_ for you. You'd love him."

"How so?"

Janey started ticking her fingers, one by one. "Well, he's tall, and, um, big, and he's totally adorable, kinda shy and geeky. He's like a squishy teddy bear!"

Kyle gulped. He didn't like the image that was forming in his head. It swirled behind a dark shadow, hollowing out his stomach with an icy chill. He tried putting his favorite smirk back in place, but it was only a sad imitation of the real thing. _Kinda like this security guard_, his fractious heart chimed in. _Shut. Up._ his mind shot back.

He cleared his throat, hoping it would clear his thoughts, too. "And _that's_ why I'd love him?" His voice cracked, but only slightly.

"Um, yeah. You love big, beefy geeks!"

"What—what gave you that impression?"

"Well, all the other guys you've been 'dating'," she said, sarcastically quoting the air next to her ears, "have been the total opposite, and it never works out. It's always one and done. Poof, they're gone. _Sooooo_..." She sidled up to him, knocking her slim shoulder against his arm. "It must mean they're not your type."

Kyle shook his head and snorted, for her benefit and his own. "You've got some funny ideas."

"Just, go take a look at him. You don't have to talk to him or anything. But I bet you'll love him."

He breathed an internal sigh of relief. Finally, she had given his mind something to glom onto: The one-way transfer of money, from outside sources straight to his wallet. One of his favorite subjects. The perfect distraction from his own stupidity.

"How much we talkin' here, girly?"

Janey tilted her head at him like a confused cockapoo. "Ummm... what?"

"Are we putting money down on this, or not? Because I'm a little strapped for cash right now and could really use a boost." He crossed his arms over his chest, grinning mischievously.

"Hmph. Well, even if you don't love him, there's no way he couldn't love _you_. You're so adorable." She twitched her nose like Samantha Stevens and reached up to pinch his cheeks with both hands. Kyle swatted her away, laughing.

Then he stilled, her words echoing in his head, unwanted, but unavoidable. He lowered his eyes. His shoes seemed particularly interesting at the moment.

"You like to throw that word around a lot, don'tcha?" he asked, his voice quiet, but still somehow too loud for his own ears.

"What word?"

"Love." He sighed, looking up again. "It _does_ have a deeper meaning, you know."

Janey jutted out her lips in an exaggerated pout. Though, everything about her was exaggerated. "Not like you'd know," she said, unhappily. "You never hang onto a guy long enough to find out."

Kyle laughed, ignoring how forced it sounded, how hollow and lifeless.

He didn't think Janey noticed. She thrust out her hand, expecting a shake in return. "Twenty bucks says he's your soul mate _for life!_"

Kyle laughed again, and this time there was some real emotion behind it, but it wasn't joy.

Janey was young still. She didn't know what the world had in store for her. The shit it was gonna pile up on her until she couldn't breathe anymore and then she'd just let herself drown in it for a while, before finally realizing that even if she couldn't crawl up out of the mess, free herself and scale those glorious heights again, touch the clouds, she could at least maneuver sideways, find a new perspective, learn to not give a damn and maybe, just maybe, harden her stupid heart against romantic notions and happy endings and expectations and the promise of promises kept. If she _expected_ the shit pile, she could ready herself for it. She could avoid it altogether.

He realized Janey was staring at him, her arm still outstretched. He grabbed her hand, a little too hard, and noted with a detached awareness that his palms were sweating.

"You're on," he finally said.

It was a sucker's bet—wagering on love. There was no way he was gonna lose money on that hand again. It was so much easier to fold and walk away than to ante up.

He'd learned that from the best.

* * * * *  
As soon as the clock struck lunch-break, Kyle meandered up to the third floor security station. Really, if it would get Janey off the subject of his love life and pad his wallet a little bit, he didn't see the harm in humoring her. And if this guy's hotness outweighed... other factors that were already knocks against him without his even knowing, then Kyle could get a fun night out of it, too.

He was about to turn the corner when something stopped him.

Footfalls.

Familiar footfalls.

Which didn't make sense. How could someone's footfalls be _familiar_, even if he'd spent the better part of three years listening to those same footfalls sneak out of his room late at night, or early in the morning, three years letting his heart thud against his chest when those footfalls turned his way again?

His mind was playing tricks on him. Obviously.

Last he'd heard—not that he'd been indulging in stalker-y behavior, just that's he'd heard things, idle chatter from people who didn't know how much he _didn't_ want to hear constant frat brother updates—he'd left Llanview, gotten a big-boy cop-job patrolling some retirement community where all the old cotton-heads shared his outdated notions of tradition and a man's role in society and all that other ridiculous shit he liked to pull out of ass when confronted with the truth.

Kyle closed his eyes. He was venturing into forbidden territory. He needed to have the calming blankness back for a few moments, needed to resettle himself first before meeting this new guy. He'd prove Janey wrong and get paid, or prove her right and get laid.

A win-win scenario.

Kyle finally turned the corner, rubbing his hands together, then stopped, pulled back, hid behind the wall.

His ears hadn't deceived him after all.

Because there he was. Kyle poked his head out and took another look, just to make sure.

It was him. It was Oliver. Dressed in security-gray, pacing the hall, his hands shoved in his pockets, his lips pursed in a whistle that Kyle was too far away to hear. Kyle whipped his head back behind the safety of his wall, knocking his head against the plaster, his eyes closed, trying to calm his beating heart.

_Shit._

Kyle took a deep breath, then opened his eyes again. He couldn't help himself—couldn't stop himself. He peered around the corner again.

Maybe... maybe it wouldn't be so bad to just walk up to him and say hello. Catch up. Maybe... Oliver had finally wised up. Maybe he wasn't blinded by his fears anymore. Kyle would never know unless he mustered up the courage and just _asked_. What harm could it do? Oliver didn't have the power to hurt him anymore. And maybe... there was a chance...

His legs were as heavy as I-beams. They, at least, had his best interests in mind, even if his heart didn't. Too many maybes. He stayed put, watching, waiting—for what, he didn't exactly know. But he wasn't moving at all, in either direction.

Oliver glanced down at his watch, then pulled his phone out of his back pocket. He poked at the keypad then brought the cell to his ear, sucking in his lower lip nervously, his empty fist knocking against his side, clenching and unclenching.

Kyle listened in, curious.

"Hi!" Oliver squeaked. "I mean—" He cleared his throat, lowering his voice. "What's up? It's, um, me... Oliver Fish. You, um, took me home a few weeks ago? _For some sex_," he whispered. Kyle muffled his surprised laugh behind his hand. Oliver continued. "Anyway, you, um, haven't called and I haven't seen you around, so I was just wondering, you know, if you wanted to, maybe, go see a movie or something, and—and dinner, maybe? Did I do something wrong, Stacy? Please call me back."

Kyle felt his stomach drop. So much for the Oliver-wised-up theory. And what was Oliver doing here at the hospital anyway? He obviously wasn't working that job in Cherryvale anymore. Probably got sacked.

Kyle took a moment to wallow in the meanness that suddenly seeped into his heart. So much for Oliver's big dreams of being a top-cop like dear old dad. Here he was, working security like a chump. He relished the idea that Oliver's own plans had apparently been derailed.

And he looked fat, too. Well, not _fat_, but he was definitely carrying some extra pounds. No wonder Sandy or whatever wasn't returning his calls. Maybe if he spent more time at the gym...

Except that was no good. Kyle had just renewed his discount membership at Serenity Springs, and the last thing he needed was to wind up in the steam room with an ex. Let him get fat and be a huge failure working some shitty job that would go nowhere until he retired, miserable and alone, or with some fat, ugly wife who hated him.

Kyle stopped, taking a deep breath. He felt like a jerk. He didn't wish misery on Oliver. He wished... clarity on him.

Even if Oliver never saw him again, even if they never shared another word, another glance, if Oliver would just... be true to himself, stop lying to himself, maybe he could finally find some happiness. Some peace. That's what Kyle truly wanted for him. To stop torturing himself and realize how great he really was. Just as he was.

Oliver stared at his phone for a while, then shoved it in his back pocket and started down the hall. Toward Kyle's corner.

"Oh... shit."

Without another thought, Kyle swiveled on his toes and jogged down the hall, his hair falling in his eyes, trying to make as little noise as possible. Seeing the supply closet, he unclipped his badge from his pocket and swiped it over the security clearance pad. The door swung out and he saw Oliver turn the corner just as it snapped closed again.

He prayed he hadn't been seen. It's not like Oliver's own security clearance couldn't get him in here, too. It was a stupid idea from the start, running and hiding, but he couldn't fathom the other option. Sticking around and chatting with his old _pal_ about the good old days. Or worse... Oliver pretending, again, like they didn't know each other at all.

Kyle rested his head against the door, breathing hard, and closed his eyes, desperate to erase his thoughts, his memories of that voice, that face, those _feelings_. But it wasn't working. He closed his eyes and instead of darkness all he saw was _him_. Smiling. Frowning. Yelling. Crying. Coming.

He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. The length of it suddenly made his stomach turn as the memories assaulted him.

_I gotta do something about this mane. Whaddaya think, Ollie?___

_Noooooo. I like it longer. Let it grow out more.___

_Why, so I'll look more like a girl?___

_Don't be stupid. Can't I just like the way you look with long hair?___

_I guess I can let it grow out a little bit...___

_Fingers threading through his hair, tugging on it, positioning his neck for greater access, the pressure of lips and tongue and smiling and love, love filling his chest and drowning in it, drowning in it._

Kyle pushed himself off the door and began pacing the small supply closet, his fists clenching uncontrollably.

He felt like such an... idiot.

Here he was, hiding in a fucking closet, of all the ironic hiding places, from someone who wasn't supposed to mean anything to him anymore. Someone whose face and touch and smell he'd erased from memory through countless encounters with other faces, other bodies.

Someone who wasn't supposed to make him hurt this much anymore.

He was the biggest idiot on the planet.

He slumped the floor, letting other memories crawl up his spine, because why not? He was already stuck in them, sinking into their sticky tar.

_You're nothing to me. A frat brother. Nothing more.___

_I never wanna see you again. Get away from me.___

_It didn't mean anything. Just forget it ever happened, okay?___

_I love you.___

_I don't._

Kyle pulled at his hair, and it gave him a sudden thought. He couldn't cull the memories from his mind all at once, take a razor to his brain and slice out that cancer, but if he could crop one memory out, and then maybe one more after that, he could systematically remove the man from his system, just as he'd done before, until he could close his eyes to the comfort of emptiness once again.

But it started with that first memory. That one had to go before the others could follow.

Kyle looked down at his watch. He had forty-five minutes left on his lunch break. Plenty of time to get it done.

* * * * *  
Kyle walked down the hall, back toward the lab, one hand bringing an apple to his mouth, the other combing through the shortened spikes at the back of his head. His hair felt different with the length gone. The follicles themselves seemed to have hardened. Well, the styling gel was probably to blame for that. He'd get used to it soon enough.

Still, he didn't know how he felt about it standing on edge like it did. It was as if he needed to cultivate the hard-edged personality to match. But that was the point, wasn't it? New look, new attitude?

Dropping the apple core in the trash, he turned the corner into the familiar corridor leading into the lab. Janey was waiting for him outside his locked door, leaning against the wall, the fingernails of her left hand caught between her teeth. She noticed him and perked up.

"Sooooooo, was I right?"

Kyle scoffed and shook his head, letting his hair's bad mood spread to the rest of him. "About what?"

Janey soldiered on, clueless. "New guy, dummy! Don't you just _love_ him?"

Kyle lifted his badge to swipe against the security lock, then stopped. Sighing, he pulled out his wallet instead. His fingers, disobedient and disloyal, tugged at the back sleeve, trying to get at the photo there, but he managed to stop them in time, instead dragging his last twenty out of the pocket and handing it over.

"Yeah," he said with a defeated shrug. He had never hated himself more. "I do."

Janey snatched the twenty, then waved it in the air as her hips moved in a little victory jig. "Ooh! Ooooh! So, you guys gonna go out?"

"Yeah right," Kyle groaned. His chest felt heavy, with hatred, with disgust, with self-pity, with annoyance for this ridiculous chirping girl who had no idea what she was talking about.

"Aw. Why not?"

"He's, uh, he's..." Kyle felt the sneer on his face, the acid dripping from his tongue, and it tasted just right. "..._not available_."

Janey stomped her foot, like a petulant child. "Dang it! That totally sucks. You guys would be perfect together!"

Kyle clenched his jaw, annoyed by her confidence, by his heart's unruly agreement. "Tell him that," he muttered, so low he could barely make out his own words.

"Wha?"

"Nothing," Kyle snapped. "I got some important lab tests to run, sweetheart, so I kinda need you to leave now." His fingers shooed her away.

Janey crossed her arms over her chest and pouted. "Hmph. I don't like it when Mr. Serious comes out to play." Her beady little squirrel eyes hardened into a glare that could cut glass. "Looks like that hack-job barber clipped your good mood, too."

She flitted down the hall, off to make her next match, no doubt. Maybe she could help Oliv—no... _Fish_ with Candi, or whatever. With a classy name like that, she was probably way out of his league. Or his price range.

Kyle swiped his badge, entered his code, pushed open the heavy door, and stomped over to his desk. The computer screen flashed red.

The results were in. Third test, same answer as the first two.

He picked up the phone and dialed.

"Commissioner Buchanan? It's Kyle Lewis." He paused, stroking his fingers through his short hair, and attempted to remove the hard edge from his voice. He closed his eyes, saw nothing but a faded outline, and allowed himself to smile. "Who's your favorite lab tech? It better be me, 'cause I've got some good news for you and your Vickeroshi problem."


End file.
